


The Overlooked Lamb

by cuphugaddict



Series: The Wrath of the Lamb [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Character Study, Hurt, Hurt No Comfort, Internal Monologue, M/M, Not Beta Read, POV Frederick, Post-Season/Series 03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2019-03-02 03:33:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13309551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuphugaddict/pseuds/cuphugaddict
Summary: After the Red Dragon-fiasco and the corresponding hospitalization, Dr. Frederick Chilton has only one thing in abundance: time. Time to reflect on the network of schemes he had found himself in - as well as his very own position.





	The Overlooked Lamb

**Author's Note:**

> Here it is, my very first attempt at a series. Wish me luck ;)
> 
> I already have an idea where this will be going so just a slight warning at the beginning: Even though Frederick's position seems rather dark at the moment, I'll be nicer to him in the following pieces; that's a promise (... and I always keep my promises ^^). 
> 
> Other than that, I hope you'll enjoy this piece.

 

 

For a man who had presumably lost everything, Frederick Chilton surely had one thing in abundance nowadays: time.

To be fair, there was not much he could do these days, except lying around in his … tube and waiting for his skin to heal so that he could be exposed to actual, unfiltered air. Of course, the drugs helped. And oh, he was sure that what he had missed during his days at college he was compensating now. He had even stopped asking about what they pumped into his blood stream. Most of all because the whole affair of pronouncing various chemical substances was more than frustrating. Barely anyone understood what he was saying anyway.

So he, Frederick Chilton, did something rather rare for him: He surrendered.

He hadn’t surrendered when things looked less then pleasant during his days at university, where he had always been a hair’s breadth away from losing his scholarship, when he had discovered during said period of studentship that he was irrevocably gay (and not, as he had hoped and prayed, bisexual which would leave him with the option of getting married to a woman), when he had been forced to break each and every tie he still maintained with members of his family due to said discovery and when he had found out time and time again that he did not have the potential he had dearly hoped for when he had taken on the position at the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane.

Nowadays however, he allowed himself to simply lie there in his tube made of glass and, if awake, let his substance-induced mind wander. Sometimes, these trips took him back to events of his childhood, like the day his father left his mother and him or to flashes of the time he hid Lucky, the three-legged black, white and red tabby that meowed at him every day home from school from behind an assemblage of dumpsters in their basement as his mother was allergic and therefore _not overly fond_ of cats. Other times, his wanderings led him to Steven Adams, the classically-closeted quarterback, who only managed to show up at Frederick’s doorstep when he was spectacularly drunk and whom Frederick still let in every single time, knowing all too well that there wasn’t even the slightest bit of a chance that the guy would even have a cup of coffee in the morning, if he even stayed that long. Happier memories – well, more bittersweet ones, to be more precise – down memory lane led him to Bradley, his beautiful and always positive Bradley who had somehow managed to see through the multitude of layers that he hid well, as he thought, under his double breasted suits. Who had swept him off his feet most unexpectedly about three years ago, proposed to him about a year ago and replaced the pretentious gold and amber signature ring he had worn on his right hand with an actual engagement ring. Frederick had never taken the gold ring sprinkled with diamonds off since then; not even when Bradley died about two weeks after the proposal in a stupid car accident. He had wanted to see the world burn at the time, which was probably why he had testified the way he had at Will Graham’s trial. _Where is my ring now?_ , he asked himself in these moments, the familiar weight not present on his finger. _Was it still at Dolarhyde’s house?_ He did not remember if the Dragon had taken it off or not before he burned him. _Had they taken it off at the hospital?_ Every time he remembered through his drugged haze to ask the personnel, there was a nurse on duty who did not understand what he was asking about.

Other times, his mind drifted back to the recording Alana had played for him – before the most recent events of course. The recording of Hannibal and Jack Crawford, talking about Will while Lecter was already institutionalized. Funnily enough, even during her frantic re-decoration of the place, Alana had not removed Frederick’s wiring. Interesting.

Jack had called Hannibal the Devil, who in turn had stated that that would make Jack God. Dolarhyde, of course was the Red Dragon and Will – as mostly Hannibal had concluded – was the Lamb in that whole scenario, whose wrath would be deadly. Well, it hadn’t been. He was still here, wasn’t he? And that made him think about that whole Blake-scenario. The more he thought about it, the clearer their error got. They had been right about Dolarhyde of course, he doubtlessly believed that he was slowly turning into the Great Red Dragon and did his best to come up to the standards of a destructive fire-breathing creature. However, Frederick was just about certain now that Hannibal wasn’t the Devil, he was God. Clearly, he liked to think about himself that way, liked to think that his immanent environment was his own creation and that he had every single living cell under his control and at his disposal. That everything was – at large – his creation and that he could change everything according to his own desires in a heartbeat. Another indicator for Hannibal being God was his co-dependent relationship with the Devil, who once was one of his fiercest protectors but then had fallen from grace. They were the opposite ends of a single continuum; one the creation of the other albeit with a mind of his own. They could not live together but it appeared equally impossible to live completely apart. And if that didn’t describe Hannibal Lecter’s and Will Graham’s relationship perfectly, Frederick didn’t know what did. Will, of course, was in a way Hannibal’s own creation but still had kept some convictions of his own. He was equally manipulative, even though in a different way than Hannibal was, played on peoples’ weaknesses (and oh, couldn’t Frederick tell a story of his own about that?) and used their vices for his own benefit. So yes, Frederick Chilton was convinced that Will Graham was the Devil to Hannibal Lecter’s God.

Jack however, Jack wasn’t in the picture at all – something that Hannibal had never said so himself, as Frederick realized now. He had only said, “That would make you God” and the FBI-agent had agreed. Well, Jack Crawford maybe was a lot of things, but he was not a Lamb. No, Frederick was more and more convinced, as he kept thinking about their whole set-up that it was him who was the perceived Lamb in the constellation. And the more he thought about it, the more sense it made: Neither Hannibal nor Will thought him to be a threat but some mild-mannered and easily manipulated object without any willpower. A mere piece in their absurdly epical play of chess. A piece that either of them would willingly offer as a sacrifice to either of their _higher_ purposes. He was their shared object of slaughter. And oh, wasn’t he aware of his position between the forces of God and the Devil he currently occupied?

However, what neither Will Graham nor Hannibal Lecter apparently was aware of was the fact that Frederick still had to stage his very own wrath. Yes, he currently was not aware about how he would accomplish that revenge of his exactly but he knew that he would have it. One way or the other. And his Wrath would be more dangerous than anyone of them could have previously imagined.

If there was one thing that Frederick Chilton knew, it was that he had survived for a reason.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Comments always brighten my day so feel free to leave one :)


End file.
